Leaving Gaza City 'They may never let us return'

September 9 is my sister Enas's birthday, so we were happy this morning, drinking coffee as a family and telling jokes, until we saw the leaflets dropping down telling us to evacuate.

- Malak A Tantesh

So now, instead of preparing biscuits and cakes to celebrate, we are packing for another displacement.

The Israeli army's plan to occupy Gaza City sent me back to memories of the early days of the war: the tension, the terror and the psychological pressure.

I am afraid the cycle of displacement will repeat itself again.

We have stayed in 10 places since we left our home in Beit Lahiya, northern Gaza, at the start of the war. A single phrase keeps echoing in my thoughts: I don't want to.

I don't want to live through that again. I don't want to return to the south. Even though it is part of Gaza, we felt like strangers there, our hearts aching for the scent of our own soil.

My mind shifts to memories of the suffering we endured in the south, living in tents, the heat of summer, the cold of winter, the struggle to secure food and water, the difficulty of accessing electricity and the internet.

The first Friday of the war we fled without knowing our destination, consumed by fear, taking only small bags packed quickly with light clothes and some essentials. It was an extreme time, when we were living minute to minute in total confusion.

This time we knew we must prepare for all possibilities. So two weeks ago my father decided to go south to look for a shelter for us, in case we were displaced again. He set off on his old bicycle, carrying a bag with some food and water.

The first thing he noticed was the lack of transport. There are very few cars still operating owing to a lack of fuel - 1 litre now costs 500 shekels (£110) - and road conditions after bombing. Most streets are now just a mix of sand, rubble and stones. There are even fewer carts on the roads, because most horses and donkeys have died from starvation or exhaustion.